the color of boom
by Deimostar
Summary: "Memory loss." The man echoed, and finally stepped away from Tony, giving him some space. "It's okay, I won't hurt you." He held up both hands to show he was unarmed and telling the truth. "Do you really not know who I am?" Tony shook his head. No, he had no idea.


"Change of plans." Tony breathed into the comm, wincing as his suit twisted further into the vulnerable skin of his abdomen. It was shrinking, the metal creaking and groaning as it folded down into itself, and, into Tony. It would not open. He'd tried every failsafe he could think of, but the suit remained unresponsive- even Jarvis had gone haywire and was nothing but a high-pitched whine in his left ear. This was a new sensation for Tony. He was used to the constriction of the suit, enjoyed it even, but having the living daylights squeezed out of him was not pleasant. He took another careful breath and felt the sharp, sudden twinge of pain in his chest that signified the snapping of ribs. Well.

"I need an extraction," Tony said slowly, hoping at least one of the other Avenger's was nearby. He really didn't know how long he could last.

"-ron Man…you...okay?" The voice sounded tinny and far away. He couldn't tell if it was Steve or Clint or Bruce, but it didn't matter. At least the comm was working.

"Not really. I'd hurry, I'm-" He felt a brief sense of panic when he realized that he couldn't send his location via Jarvis. He'd just have to trust that someone would find him before he was crushed to death. "I'm somewhere near Harlem."

"Okay, I'm coming. Hold tight." Said the comm and Tony almost cracked a smile. Like he could do anything else.

The good news was that he'd at least done his job. The mutant they'd been sent out to apprehend was tied up on the floor next to Tony, bleeding from a superficial head wound. He struggled against his bonds, but they were too strong for him to break.

They'd sent Tony because the mutant was physically weak and mostly used robots for his attacks. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to the team, he could also control nitinol. Which was the main alloy of Tony's Iron Man suit. Hence the squishing.

"Could you maybe stop?" He groaned, feeling another rib bow under the pressure. He didn't get a response but he wasn't really expecting one. "Fucker."

He was fairly light headed and staying awake was becoming difficult. Even if his team managed to get here on time, he wasn't sure how they would get him out of the suit. It would have to be cut off, but normal tools wouldn't be strong enough. Maybe just stopping the pressure would be enough to keep him alive. Hopefully.

Tony was getting panicky too, as the dark closed tighter and tighter. He had to force himself to keep still and avoid wriggling around. It was like being buried alive and he resisted to urge to call out on the comms. Help was on the way and talking just amplified the pressure.

But.

It was all starting to remind him too much of Afghanistan.

This wasn't as bad as the torture he'd endured there, but the feeling of being trapped in his own skin was the same. Tony did not like situations where he couldn't help himself, or where he was completely dependent on someone else. Maybe that wasn't the right mentality for being on a team, but he couldn't help it. He'd been raised to be self-sufficient and needing help made him feel like he was suffocating.

"Jarvis, lights on." He whispered- a last-ditch effort to get the suit running. Nothing. The mutant had complete control and Tony couldn't even move an inch to knock him out.

Exhausting all efforts, Tony floated in and out of consciousness for what felt like hours before someone came.

"Iron Man? Tony?" The shout brought him out of the darkness in which he was drifting and he tried to call out, but the suit was too tight. He couldn't speak. From his view on the floor, Tony couldn't see Steve until the man was hovering right above him, face slack with horror. "Tony? What happened?"

"Knock him out!" Tony tried to say, but the words came out as a low groan.

Steve was smart though and furrowed his brow, gaze coming to rest on the man who was literally holding Tony's life in his hands.

"If you're doing this, I'd suggest you'd stop." Steve said, ever the diplomat.

Just kill him! Tony wanted to scream. Jesus fuck, Steve, this is not the time to be nice! His ribs gave another low grind before snapping with a pop. That seemed to solidify the decision for Steve. He slammed his fist into the side of the man's head and the force of the punch sent him flying towards the other end of the room.

The mutant crumpled into a heap, unconscious.

It did the trick. Tony's armor stopped trying to squash him and expanded a little, giving him a bit more room to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, running his hands over the armor, trying to find the release.

"No," Tony grunted. "It won't open. I need the lab. My bots can do it." Talking hurt, but he needed to get Steve moving, he wouldn't make it much longer.

"Yeah, yes. The quinjet's outside." Steve was strong, stronger than anyone else Tony knew, but even he struggled to lift the armor. "I'll have Natasha and Clint come back to collect him."

Tony didn't care. The only thing his mind was focused on was getting home and tearing the armor off.

Tony's bots made quick work of stripping him of the suit, JARVIS apologizing the whole time.

"Not your fault, J." He grimaced as the managed chest plate was extricated from his tender ribs.

"It's mine." Said Steve. He was looming above Tony with a bottle of water and a roll of gauze. "I shouldn't have sent you."

"Bullshit. I was the best person for the job and you know it. No one else would have made it past his security system."

"I could have sent someone with you."

"You were all busy fighting his robots. No one knew he could control nitinol. It's not your fault." Tony just wanted to curl up and go to sleep but Steve's expression was just too guilty for him to ignore. "Just drop it, Cap. I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're hurt. You need to go to medical, Tony."

"No thank you." The armor was mostly removed, revealing bruised, raw skin underneath. It did hurt. Like a bitch. But JARVIS could examine him in a much less intrusive manner than S.H.I.E.L.D. medical could, and if Tony really needed a doctor, Bruce would suffice. "No point."

Steve's face screwed up like he was trying to physically restrain himself from arguing. "Fine." He said. "What can I do to help?"

"You could set my ribs." Tony offered. It was the one thing he wouldn't be able to easily do himself. "Nothing else is broken."

Steve blanched but nodded. "Sure." They'd all received basic first aid training, and Steve had been through a war, so Tony wasn't too nervous about it. The man was careful in sitting Tony up, gently running his hands over the expanse of Tony's back, searching for any telltale bumps. He sucked in a sharp breath when Steve hit a particularly tender area and screwed his eyes shut. Steve made quick work of guiding the stray rib back into place, and Tony tried his best to avoid passing out.

It was not an easy task.

"I'm done. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." It was already easier to breathe, and Tony sucked down a couple grateful lungfuls. "Here, hand me the bandages."

"I can do it." Steve said, batting away Tony's reaching hands.

"Steve-"

"I feel bad enough as it is, please just let me help." There was a hard edge slipping into Steve's voice and Tony was too tired to argue with him- no matter how embarrassing this was.

"Fine, whatever."

"I still wish you would let medical check you out." Steve said when he was done. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm almost certain you're concussed."

"No, I'm not." Tony started to object when JARVIS cut him off.

"Actually sir, Captain Rogers is quite correct. Along with four fractured ribs, you've suffered extensive bruising and a mild concussion

"Not helpful, J." Tony muttered, narrowing his eyes at Steve's smug expression.

"Actually, it's very helpful. Thank you, JARVIS."

"Still not going to the hospital." Unfortunately, JARVIS seemed right about the concussion because Tony's words were slurred just slightly. "I've been concussed before, I'll heal."

"I know." Steve nodded. "But if you don't agree to get checked out at medical, I'm benching you for a month." It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did, Tony's mouth dropped open.

"You can't do that!"

"I'm sure the team will agree with me. You're in no condition to fight." Arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed into slits, Steve cut an imposing figure, but Tony didn't have any self-preservation instincts and bristled back.

"That's not your choice to make _captain._ I'm a grown ass man."

"Well, you would have a hard time convincing me of that. You're acting like a child." Steve's words stung, more than Tony would ever let on. Disappointing your childhood hero over and over again- no matter how much of an insufferable dick he turned out to be- took a toll on one's self-esteem. Tony managed to clamp down on a bitter comeback, capturing his bottom lip in his teeth. His mind was itching for a fight. He was ready to scream at Steve until they were both red in the face. But his head was throbbing, his chest was aching, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

"I'll go tomorrow." It wasn't so much of a promise as it was something to get Steve off his back.

Steve looked dumbfounded, as if he expected the fight to escalate. He shifted his weight around and slowly uncrossed his arms. "I- thank you."

"Yup." Tony let his eyes flutter shut, relaxing further into the couch. It probably wasn't the best place to pass out, but the gentle hum of the workshop was comforting. He could almost pretend that Steve wasn't staring down at him, like Tony was the world's most complicated puzzle.

"You can sleep for two hours, but then I'm sending someone down to check on you." He finally decided. Tony hummed noncommittally, "Whatever you say, Cap," and then he was out.

Tony woke two hours later, staring up into a pair of light blue eyes that he didn't recognize. He resisted the urge to freak out and scrambled into a sitting position, wincing when his ribs gave a sharp cry of protest.

"What's wrong?" The man was saying, pressing into Tony's personal space, and well, Tony couldn't have that. His fist shot out, snagging the man in the nose. He didn't react like Tony had expected, and paid no attention to the blow, instead reaching out to catch Tony's wrist. "Hey, it's okay. It's just me, calm down."

"I don't _know you."_ Tony hissed out, trying to pull his wrist out of the man's grip. It didn't work- he was too strong. "Let me go!"

"Not until I'm sure you won't hurt yourself."

"I'm not trying to hurt myself." Tony bit out, "I'm trying to hurt _you."_

His wrist was released and he cuddled it back to his chest, but the man didn't go away. He angled his head towards the ceiling and spoke, words quick and precise.

"What's wrong with him? Do I need to call Bruce?"

"I am uncertain, Captain Rogers. It appears Sir is experiencing some sort of memory loss. It's not an uncommon side effect of a concussion, and should go away soon. However, I believe contacting Doctor Banner is a good idea." Tony startled as the disembodied voice filtered down from the ceiling and whipped his head around, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.

"Who is that?" He asked, scooting as far away from the man as the couch would allow. The movement hurt his ribs and he sucked in a sharp breath, determined not to show how much it hurt. If this man knew he was in pain, he could take advantage of Tony, so he had to act like he was fine.

"Memory loss." The man echoed, and finally stepped away from Tony, giving him some space. "It's okay, I won't hurt you." He held up both hands to show he was unarmed and telling the truth. "Do you really not know who I am?"

Tony shook his head. No, he had no idea. Something about the man seemed vaguely familiar but he'd be hard pressed to place it.

"Okay then. I'm Steve. Steve, um, Rogers." Again, the name sounded like something Tony had heard before.

"Did you kidnap me?"

"What? Of course not, Tony. We're friends." Steve Rogers said. And there was something in how he hesitated that made Tony almost certain that Steve was lying. They were not friends. That didn't necessarily mean Steve meant him harm, but now Tony couldn't trust him.

"If we're friends, then you don't mind if I call my parents to come pick me up." He said.

"Your _parents?_ " Steve went still at Tony's request, mouth dropping open. "Tony… how old do you think you are?"

"Nine." The answer slipped out without him thinking. It was never a good idea to reveal personal information, especially to someone who you didn't know. Tony clamped his mouth shut, determined not to say any more. But it didn't matter. Steve had gone white, staring at Tony with wide, worried eyes.

"N _ine?_ " He choked. Something about Steve's expression scared Tony and he found himself nodding.

" _.._.yes." As he spoke his chest twinged again and, this time, there was no ignoring it. Tony whimpered, wrapping his arms around his stomach. "What's wrong with me?" His voice came out a whisper, but Steve seemed to hear him anyways, pushing into Tony's space and pulling his hands away.

"Your ribs are broken. Don't touch them, it'll make it worse." His tone was gentle and kind but Tony twisted away, whining.

"How'd they break?" Broken bones weren't uncommon for Tony because he spent so much time tinkering with dangerous things, but he'd never snapped a rib before. It hurt worse than all his previous injuries combined. Steve didn't answer him though. He was busy conversing with the automated voice from the ceiling again, asking for a 'Bruce', a 'Clint', and a 'Natasha' to come down to the workshop.

Tony didn't recognize the names. The thought of meeting more, unfamiliar people wasn't pleasant and he began to scan his surroundings, looking for a way to escape.

The couch Tony was sitting on was tucked into a corner, surrounded by half empty pizza boxes and crushed coke cans.

The lab he was familiar with- the one at home- would never look like this. His father did not permit mess. Not unless it was useful, but even then, it would have to be picked up immediately following the completion of the project. This room, however, was a whirlwind of scrap metal, paper strewn over every available surface, tools and machinery and shiny devices that Tony had no name for. There was one wall that was made entirely out of glass, but he didn't see any doors. Without an obvious escape route and sporting a set of damaged ribs Tony was, for the moment, stuck.

He looked up at Steve, blinking away tears of frustration. There was no way he would cry in front of this man, or anybody else either. He was a Stark and Stark men were made of iron. "I want to call my parents. Give me a phone." Tony said with as much authority and conviction as he could manage.

"I can't do that, Tony. I'm sorry." To his credit, Steve did appear genuinely distraught.

"Why not?"

"Tony-"

"Why the fuck not, Steve Rogers?" He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the couch, not expecting the wave of nausea and dizziness that left him weak in the knees. Tony's whole body swayed and he cried out, arms flailing for something to grab. Steve caught him right before he crashed to the ground.


End file.
